


Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

by Blue Rose (Grovehove)



Series: Dear Future Husband [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grovehove/pseuds/Blue%20Rose
Summary: “Have you finally gone and lost whatever marbles you still had rattling around that wolfy noggin of yours?” Stiles let rip with an exasperated shout as he caught sight of the elegant figure insouciantly draped over their comfy couch.Of course they might have successfully outmanoeuvred the Avengers (Stiles so wanted to do his victory dance but there had been a ban imposed at the first and last formal building tenants meeting two years ago!) but the uninvited douche canoe in their living room was a different matter entirely.The Big Bad Wolf wants answers....Please read Part 1 & 2 of Dear Future Husband or this won't make much sense xx





	Who's afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

“Have you finally gone and lost whatever marbles you still had rattling around that wolfy noggin of yours?” Stiles let rip with an exasperated shout as he caught sight of the elegant figure insouciantly draped over their comfy couch.  
  
The trio had ditched their excitable entourage as soon as the other students were surrounding the Avengers and demanding autographs. Isaac had basically wrapped an arm around each of them and took off like a bat, er, wolf out of hell. He was moving so fast he was basically carrying Stiles and Lydia.  
  
Thank all the gods that no-one noticed his obvious supernatural behaviour because of the merry kerfuffle over the famous (infamous) duo. Meh Stiles might have whipped out his cell phone and taken a few pics to add to his Instagram account, which might have had the desired purpose of bogging down said daring duo as the hordes of students grew, surrounding the would-be pursuers like a swarm of large and noisy bees. Stiles adored the instantaneous nature of Social Media.

Of course they might have successfully outmanoeuvred the Avengers (Stiles so wanted to do his victory dance but there had been a ban imposed at the first and last formal tenants meeting two years ago!) but the uninvited douche canoe in their living room was a different matter entirely.  
  
Peter raised the trade mark Hale eyebrow with irritating slowness.  
  
Stiles hated, hated, hated when he did that. It made him feel like a junior school kid again. Well ok it wasn’t that long ago but they were adults now, forging their own path, making their own decisions, dealing with their own shit even if they still hadn’t hit the age to freely imbibe alcoholic beverages. So why was it that when Uncle P showed up the dastardly dude managed to turn him into a stuttering little boy?  

“I’ll bet no-one ever made you feel like a twelve year old even when you were twelve” Stiles spat resentfully under his breath but of course the supernatural beings in room all heard him perfectly.  
Lydia rolled her beautiful eyes, Peter’s smirk was so big it nearly slid off his damn face and Isaac just covered his eyes.  Stiles would have blushed if he hadn’t been an adult, damn brain to mouth filter.

Gah so not the point. The point being that they hadn’t cleared their little business venture with their Alpha, when they started it.  They all knew how protective Der Bear was and how hard they had to fight to get to this University because it  was further away than Derek had really wanted.   
Now his wily undead second was here. Uncle P the lying liar who lied all the time and who could smell an untruth like a particularly pungent mouldy French cheese. Fuck a flying duck!

Lahey the absolute coward tried to slink off to his room on the pretext of finishing an urgent assignment but that irritating eyebrow was turned on him and the younger Werewolf subsided meekly on to the love chair by the window. He lent for comfort against the last of the trio. Lydia had taken one glance at the uninvited figure in their lounge, shook her head and then resolutely ignored him as she stalked over to the extra wide seat, with her nose in the air and her lips in a tight line.

Stiles had been the only one who had been unable to keep his mouth shut as his outrage overtook his sense of danger. He carried on with disbelief.   
“God damn it ZW you snogged the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier Dude, the Winter Soldier!!!! And had the Black Widow threaten you with her bites. Have you been snorting Wolfsbane? Are you possessed Zombie Wolf, what the actual fuck?”

“Don’t forget the fact that the Avenging Archer also had me in his sights dear boy.” Peter purred wickedly, his blue eyes scanning the three miscreants who were all avoiding each other’s eyes so obviously that he had to reign in the laughter. Adorable naughty little pups. They literally reeked of embarrassed guilt. What had they been up to?

“I can’t even…” Stiles stopped to draw breath, then gulped when Peter rose and with little effort suddenly that graceful, relaxed, teasing, urbane Uncle became the stern and disapproving Left Hand of the Hale pack. The smooth voice continued, the sarcasm biting.

“It’s a conundrum isn’t it my kiddiwinklets? The presence of the Avengers, and let’s be honest here my little dumplings, the rather less righteously wholesome members of the Avengers. The trained assassins, you know the ones no-one wants to meet down a dark alley? Those particular Avengers appearing just in time to confront my trio of treasures. Now why would they be stalking my sweet hardworking innocent student pack mates? Hmm. Darlings? Anyone? Feel free to offer me some insight into this very strange event.”  
  
The way Peter circled the room had Isaac almost cringing in his seat, his head tucked into Lydia’s neck but the slight whine was audible to everyone. Lydia scowled as she patted Isaac’s curls.  
“Oh do stop it Peter, we haven’t done anything wrong. It was only a part time job to earn some extra money, and I will remind you that Derek said he didn’t have a problem with that. He thought it would teach us fiscal responsibility.”  
  
Lydia snorted with exasperation as she ignored the sniggers from her two idiot temporary roommates. Maybe she would forgive Jackson a little sooner than planned for still wearing that Brooks Brothers ensemble when she had expressly asked for him to get the latest Canali suit when they visited her parents. It looked like it was passed time to go back to the house they shared.  
  
It was an unfortunate and immutable fact that Peter Hale was not an idiot. Smug, psychotic, over protective and downright wicked but sadly, not an idiot.  
  
 Stiles hadn’t taken his eyes away from Peter’s face and he saw that damn eyebrow rise even higher.  
He could feel his shoulders start to hunch in anticipation of the next words that would drip slowly into their collective psyche in an obvious attempt to trap them into confessing.

“Now what kind of part time job could you possibly do that would earn yourselves a visit from those particular Avengers my darling little banshee? A spot of attempted world domination between seminars perhaps? Did you become Loki Minions or Dr Doom devotees whilst my back was turned? Or perhaps Hydra recruited you? Please God tell me it’s not those losers AIM and their horrendous fashion sense, even those ridiculous Hydra masks have more style than those orange monstrosities!”

Before Lydia could utter her blistering reply, how dare Peter challenge her fashion sense even in jest, it was bad enough when Jackson wouldn’t listen to her but Peter knew better damn it, Isaac blurted out “Exotic dancing” with his face still turned away.

There was a stunned silence. No one in the room, not even the werewolf himself could actually believe that Isaac had uttered those words for a wide variety of reasons.

Despite the cringing fear of the axe that was about to fall, for Stiles there was the not so subtle glimmer of a silver lining.  
  
The expression on Zombie Wolf’s face when his brain processed Isaac’s words.  
  
Stiles would treasure that look for many, many years to come. That expression would linger as a delightful memory until the day he died, which upon reflection was probably going to be that same day once Peter got over the shock and his embarrassment over displaying that shock and thus dispelling the legend of his omniscient menace.  
  
Wow Stiles was impressed. He definitely had to work that sentence into one of his assignments somehow, which was a nice pipedream because they were all so dead once Peter recovered.  Dead, dead, deady dead, dead. Goodbye cruel world.

Peter opened his mouth and closed it all in the space of a second. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“You stripped for the Avengers?” his voice was ominously calm as he asked the question.

“What? No Dude” Stiles objected strenuously “We don’t strip, it’s a totally tasteful customer focused burlesque art form”  
Stiles hung on to his indignation with gritted teeth especially when he could see the incredulous expressions directed his way from his business partners.

“Is that how you described it to your father Stiles?” And the Left hand was back in the building folks. Yep dead, dead, dead, dead and totally dead Dude.

Stiles winced but bravely rallied “We provide customised entertainment at special events, its’ a lucrative legitimate business venture, and is there really any need to mention this to anyone else Uncle P?” the words trailed off weakly.

“You stripped for the Avengers” the Wolf repeated relentlessly then his eyes flashed, his fangs lengthened, and there was the appearance of the trademarked sideburns until standing in front of them was the homicidal Zombie wolf they all knew and loved.  
  
He took a step closer to Stiles, who took an instinctive step back, his amber eyes wide.  
Despite the ominous low rasp of his voice, Peter’s tone was almost kind in direct contrast to the serial killer expression on his handsome furry face.  
  
“Do they not understand the word No? Is that it? Did you refuse their advances and now they are making nuisances of themselves?”

Lydia leapt up from the seat in alarm, and Isaac fell towards the floor with a squawk and failing of limbs that was normally more Stiles’s style.  
“No Peter, don’t be ridicu…” she began but she was trying to convince an empty space because Peter Hale flew through the front door like an enraged  predator leaving behind only echoes of that shiver inducing menacing snarl.   
  
Huh right Werewolf. Big bad wolfy dude going to deal with threats to his pack… the blood fled from Stiles’s already pale face until he looked like he was a monochrome version of himself.  
Fuck a flying duck the maniac was going after the Avengers. No, No, No. Uncle P was gonna get himself killed or locked up forever by some super shady Dudes in black when he decimated their superhero asses. They had to stop this. They had to stop him.

Stiles spun round in a total panic to see Lydia press a button on her cell.

“Young Miss Martin, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” the British voice jovially asked.

 

“What the hell do you mean we need the Hulk safe room Jay? Just because this guy has jumped to the wrong conclusion, got his pantaloons in a twist, his Victorian sensibilities offended and is heading here to give us a peace of his mind?” Stark turned to glare at the three idiots who were without doubt utterly and absolutely the true cause of this stupid situation.  
  
For the love of red and gold shiny things, he had told them to lay off those kids. Jarvis had told them to lay off those kids. His darling brand spanking (mmm) new husband America’s own Captain had told them to lay off those kids and what did they go and do? The exact bloody opposite. This was going to turn into a PR nightmare if they weren’t careful. Some old geezer ranting outside the compound about the Avengers lack of morals. Those Press bastards would love it.  
  
Barton just leaned back in his chair and grinned at him, Tasha looked unimpressed but there had been a flicker in her eyes when Jarvis had explained the problem, and Barnes, why the hell was Barnes looking smug and satisfied about this clusterfuck?  
   
“We are the Avengers Jarvis, any one of us could take this normal guy down and contain him until he gets his head on straight,”  
   
Tony was exasperated. He had a hot date with his husband who had arrived home not an hour ago from a three day mission. Tony himself had arrived back at the compound that morning after a short visit to Malibu to make sure the redecoration was well on its way to completion  
(The little bastards had used the place for a week long paintball tournament whilst he and Stevie had been on honeymoon. He was so pissed. Couldn’t they have waited until after the honeymoon? He would have taken them all down and got to wear the Paintball Crown, not the damn Falcon. Ha Sam Wilson looked like such a sincere sap but he had a competitive streak a mile wide and had no scruples about what he had to do to win. The cheating cheater who cheated)  
  
Tony had come back to the compound to fit in a little teensy momentary session in the workshop before he ravished his beautiful husband. The very definition of a perfect day in his life.  
He had plans damn it and now Jarvis had called a mini Avenger assembly because some old prude was coming to remonstrate with them about his enterprising young relatives.

Barton sniggered long and loud “Well that might not actually be the case Stark, don’t think you can actually call someone normal who gets the drop on the Winter Soldier and snogs him, moving so fast away from the resultant punch that even I can’t track him and faces down the Black Widow wearing the same kinda expensive suits that you do.”

Stark’s eyes went wide and then that trademark smirk appeared, slowly and inexorably.  
  
Bucky glared at Barton, fucking blabbermouth. His teeth were clenched at the gleeful tone of Stark’s voice as he connected the coms to his and Stevie’s suite.

“Steven, get your excellent ass down here now. Your best pal has been kissing a man in a suit. I repeat, Barnes has been “facetiming” with a civilian in a business suit, without using his phone. Jaybird I want pictures or it didn’t happen.”

The final straw for Barnes, the thing that made him close his eyes in despair and vow a deep and dark vengeance upon all of them was the calm voice of the Black Widow as she corrected Stark “Your best pal has been kissing a goateed man in a suit”.

The unremitting howls of laughter just gave him a headache. He was going to kill them all. They were dead. Dead. Deady dead.  


Peter stared at the soothing pale pastel coloured walls in the empty room. He slowly swung round to take in the rest of the place and it was enormous. He barely remembered the journey to the Compound as utter rage and the enticing scent that hadn’t left him since his little altercation with the delicious leather clad Winter Solder drew him onwards like a heat seeker missile powered by a shocking sense of betrayal.  
  
That gorgeous bastard had been perving on the pack pups and he was going to get what was coming to him courtesy of the Left Hand of the Hale Pack.  
  
Then his eyes and his nose found the very same leather jacket in the corner of the room. The growl that resounded in the empty space sounded like a hound of hell.  He had been led here like a damn sniffer dog. Someone was going to die.

A calm voice greeted him gently. “Mr Hale Sir, there appears to have been some misunderstanding, please allow me to correct it.”

Then a recording was projected onto one of the bare walls.

For the second time that day Peter Hale was stunned into silence. Dear Future Husband indeed! Officers Lycan and Woods were so getting another visit from Uncle P where a discussion on upholding the image of the Pack was going to be first on the Agenda. Seriously those outfits had to go. For the love of good taste those uniforms were so badly made, what were they thinking? And where the hell did Stiles keep that cell phone in that skin tight outfit?  
  
He ignored the relief roiling around in his gut. He wouldn’t have to hurt that delicious delectable man, well not unless he was agreeable to that sort of thing.  Before he could continue with that disturbingly naughty train of thought, Peter became aware of the seamless wall sliding open and a familiar enticing scent preceded the entrance of the Winter Soldier.

He swung his head towards the guy and his breath caught at the sight of those abs in that tight long sleeved tee, the messy man bun he wanted to ruin and those god damn leather trousers which left nothing to the imagination. He was Peter Hale. He did not drool! But the Wolf and the Man both hungered.

The Winter Soldier had forced himself to the fore because of the inherent threat presented by the compelling stranger. Bucky complained bitterly as he fought to stay aware and in control.

 There was a long silence whilst they surveyed each other as the dangerous predators they both were.

“You aren’t afraid of me”. The Soldier stated gruffly. It wasn’t a question.

“You aren’t afraid of me”. The suave Stranger smirked back at him. Also not a question

The Soldier raised an eyebrow unimpressed, the action mirrored with mocking delight by the Stranger.

The Soldier stalked calmly around the Stranger, silver eyes roamed the trim body in the fine suit, assessing musculature, strength, threat levels and weak points as he had been trained.  To see all and be able to take action at a moment’s notice.  
  
The guy stood there, the ultimate impression of being as meek as a lamb until the sight of that deadly smirk on those sculptured lips got rid of that notion quicker than even Stark could say wolf in sheep’s clothing.  
  
That smirk on that unfairly handsome face grew wider, wicked amusement gleamed in those startling blue eyes but he made no overt dangerous moves only his body seemed to flow into a position that showed it to its best advantage, especially the gluteus maximus muscle.  
  
Bucky blinked after nearly rolling his eyes at himself, "god damn it you cold blooded jerk, it’s his ass, it’s his fine, fine ass that is being shown to its best advantage" he whispered to the Soldier as they both stared at that same ass outlined in those fitted trousers. That ass should be classed as illegal. If that wasn’t carrying a concealed weapon with intent, then just damn dip him in blue dye and call him Vision. The Soldier scowled even as Bucky’s mouth watered.

“Take him down, review threat assessment, take him down, grip that throat and neutralise the threat, take him down, remove the danger, take him down” insisted the Soldier part of his brain.

“Hold him down, review that body, hold him down, grip that throat and watch him swallow, hold him down, remove the clothes, hold him down” purred Bucky’s one track mind.

For a second Bucky could have sworn that the guy’s eyes flashed an even deeper blue but then the brash voice of Iron man burst impatiently out of the speakers.  
  
“Yes, yes. No-one is afraid of anyone. It was all a big misunderstanding yada yada yada. Now tell us what you are Mr Impeccable Taste in Suits with the fine furry face and I am not talking of your beard here, and then you and the leather clad Robocop can find a god damn room whilst the rest of us try to bleach our brains.”

“Why Mr Stark, I’m the big bad wolf who has come to collect his happy ever after.” The deep rumble  sent goosebumps across Bucky’s flesh arm. The guy took a step towards him and lowered his voice as he spoke directly to him “I’m going to make you huff and puff as I blow you”

In the workshop, Steve turned away from the holoscreen to say to Tony in the workshop with innocent confusion.  
  
“I get that reference but shouldn’t it be as I blow your house down?”  
  
Barton fell of the back of his chair with a bellow of laughter.  Natasha smirked and Banner turned his head away to hide the smile on his face.  
  
Tony stared at his husband in disbelief, once again he wasn’t sure whether to comfort his darling relic or slap him across the head. He buried his own head in his hands instead with a helpless groan.

Steve grinned wickedly. He had waited patiently to get his own back for that night.

“Well at least I didn’t say "Stop that, there are ladies present gosh darn" it this time!”

**Author's Note:**

> So enjoyed writing this but this is the last one in the series. Run out of inspiration for it. Not bad considering it was only supposed to be the first story!


End file.
